In the Orbit of Mother

I'm under the weather today. Nothing serious, just a bad cold. Unfortunately I am still improving my immune system so a cold sort of really knocks me off my feet. While I know what I need to do to get over this nuisance of the nose, throat, and chest variety, whether or not I can do it seems to depend a lot on my children.

Inevitably, when I need rest, quiet and immobility, I am reminded that my children orbit around me.

Mothers are like the suns of their little domestic universes. Everything revolves around them. Husband, children, even pets, they all find harmony in a synchronous orbit around mother.

Yesterday I needed to put myself to bed and try to sleep this thing off. So when husband came home I finished making dinner and then tried to turn over the household to him and put myself in bed. Within ten minutes the first of my little orbiters came in to tell me absolutely nothing important. A few minutes later another skipped in to simply "see if I was asleep" and was relieved that I was not. Not long after that I was treated to another visit from my youngest. He thought that perhaps I needed to be entertained and snuggled so he moved into "close orbit" and splayed himself across my chest while talking nonstop about origami. Soon after this, my husband came in. He couldn't find something. I told him where it was. Then he came in again wondering how to store the left-overs. Then he decided to do the bills sitting next to me on the bed. At this point I gave up the idea of sleeping - which was good because next came the parade of children giving me origami tulips and cat faces.

I could have gotten mad. I was admittedly a bit frustrated. But I am mom. I am wife. I am, quite literally, the center of their universe.  This is something for which I am both eternally grateful and constantly terrified of messing up; but it is as it should be.

One day my children will be grown. It is happening too fast as it is with two of them on the cusp of the teenage years. They will outgrow this small domestic universe of ours. My boys will seek out their own lives. They will find a new "star" to become the center of their orbit. As they should.

My daughter will grow and learn and mature into a woman I hope will understand the important role she will play in a family of her own. A role no one else can fill. The role of wife. The role of mother.

Mother.
This exhausting, beautiful, real, raw, self-emptying calling that makes you alike to the sun, and as full of love as the moon.

And I will one day be able to put myself to bed without interruption, without small feet running to check on me, and I will miss these times. I will miss their need to simply be near me. The security they feel in knowing mother is there. She is awake. She is watching. She is present. And they are in my orbit.

So I turn to Our Blessed Mother.
Mary, Star of the Sea. Mary, Morning Star.

We have a beautiful statue of Mary in our home right now. It is by far my favorite depiction of Mary. The statue belongs to my grandmother but she loans her out to our family members. Whenever she comes to visit I find myself doing the same thing that my children do. I place myself in her orbit. It is enough to be near. To be able to glance at her as I go about my day. To feel her presence and the security that comes with it.  I actually contemplated placing her on a table in my kitchen because that is where I spend so much of my day!

More than the presence of a statue though, there is a comfort and a peace that comes from being near Our Lady. She is Mother. The most perfect of Mothers. She offers us all the comfort, the protection, the encouragement, and the help we could possibly need; and she does this because she constantly directs us to THE Son. Her Son. I love the quote from St. Louis de Montfort, "If you put all the love of all the mothers of the world into one heart it still would not equal the love of the heart of Mary for her children."

She understands the unique sacrifices and the gift that is Motherhood. She can distribute to us the Graces we need to accept our role in our families, to be the "sun" in whose orbit our family finds peace. If we place ourselves near her, much as our children do with us, we will find all the help, all the perseverance, all the love we need to be mother.

Mother.
Mary.
Mother for mothers.

Home Sweet Home

I would like to tell you a story.  Its a true story.  About our home.  Now this may sound boring to you, however if you have read any of the other stories on this blog you'd know that our lives are anything BUT boring.

Five years ago my husband was being honorably discharged from the Marine Corps after serving two enlistments (that's 8 years for you civilians out there).  We were living on a military base at the time, and of course had to move as you don't get to live on a base or post as an enlisted (ahem, not officer) service-member unless you are active duty.  The trouble was we had no idea when or where we would  move.  We new God was telling us our time as a military family was up, but He was keeping us in the dark about the rest!

We eventually discerned that we were to move to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  Through a series of what some would call random, but what we knew to be Providential events my husband became the Executive Director of a non-profit that had stalled and was charged with resurrecting it.  This at least provided us with some sort of income potential (though it wasn't enough to really live off of).  We knew that we were eligible for benefits from the Veterans Association upon discharge so we were planning to use that as rent to get us on our civilian feet.

As the days wound down and "moving day" approached, we STILL had no house to move to!  We were praying, trusting, and feeling a bit like Shadrach, Mishaq, and Abednego in the fiery furnace!  Finally the day before we were to move out (we had the boxes packed and the u-Haul ready!) we took a last-ditch, Hail Mary trip to the area the non-profit was to be located.  We were shown a few dirty, broken down apartments that we knew we could not raise 4 children in (I was pregnant with our fourth at the time).  We walked back to our car confounded.  What were we to do!?

My husband sat behind the wheel and prayed aloud to St. Joseph. He asked God to show us.  Right in front of us was a Realtor's Office.  We looked at each other.  Why not!?

We entered the office and my husband explained the situation to a wonderful Realtor while I entertained our bored but very patient children.  The next thing I knew we were being shown 3 different homes - a single family home with a yard, a townhome, and an apartment.  All were just in our rental budget, all were move-in ready, and they were in the perfect location.  My husband and I discussed it.  We told the realtor that the single family home with a fenced in yard was perfect.  He contacted the landlords.  We sat in his office for a few hours while the details were worked out.  We faxed over an application, made phone calls and wrote a letter explaining how we would be able to pay rent every month.  The lovely realtor told us he would call us as soon as he heard from them.

We began the 2 hour drive back to the base.  Praying and trusting.  At 10pm the Realtor called. He said the landlords had agreed and would meet us at the house the next day to finalize paper work and give us the keys! We had a home!

We moved in the next day! God came through - and in truly Divine fashion, He showed off a bit - giving me some very obvious signal graces that led me to not doubt for a moment that He had orchestrated everything.

That was five years ago.

Now, we are still living in the same house, except we OWN it! No less than another miracle, I assure you. Our former landlords said initially that they weren't interested in selling. Well, after 5 years, their minds changed!  The offered to sell us the house for an INSANELY low amount!  Well below market value. We were told we had to either buy it or move as they are trying to streamline their lives a bit and didn't want to be landlords anymore. We had no idea how we would be able to buy a house!  We had declared bankruptcy 4 years earlier when the NonProfit that hired my husband cut costs by letting him go, and then the economy crashed around us. Yet, we stepped out in faith and, not knowing anything about buying a home, with my credit in the gutter (almost dying is VERY expensive - I am still paying medical bills!) we kept trusting and putting one foot in front of the other.

For reasons beyond understanding, we were approved again and again. Inspections, applications, loan officers, etc.  Every time we got through another approval my husband and I would look at each other confounded.  We closed on the house in July.  It is ours.  We never intended to be homeowners at this moment in time, but God had other plans.

In fact His plans have now placed us in a situation that we could have NEVER imagined.  As more and more people are going on public assistance, as more and more cant find work, as ObamaCare is destroying income, we are stable, we are somehow isolated from it. As if we are in a bubble of protection that is sheltering us.  We got OFF public assistance, we, for the first time ever, have enough to live off of, we are finally able to pay the long over due medical bills that I accrued after all our losses.  My husband is moving up in his job into management.  His company has done so well even during the horrid economic slide that it isn't changing insurance policies! None of this is our doing, none of it we could have foreseen.  It is simply a result of following along one step at a time, the path that God placed before us.

If I had to guess, I would say that Mary is quietly behind it all.  Protecting her children.  Mary has more and more (especially since after Lolek's death) been calling us to trust her motherhood.  When I was little I remember reading messages that she gave to different people - Fr. Gobi, Garabandal, Fatima.  One thing stood out.  She said those consecrated to her, those who place themselves beneath her mantle of Motherly protection, will be taken care of.  She will watch over and protect them.  As I write this post I cant help but remember that promise.  I see firsthand how she has kept it. I see how abandonment to God and trust in His Mother's intercession has kept us from experiencing so much.  Sure, we've had our sufferings, and yes, out share of pain and loss.  But those losses, those sufferings those crosses, they all had a purpose. Drawing us to deeper trust, to deeper conversion, to a deeper faith so that we may more boldly walk forward amidst all that is going on around us, confident in the Love that Our Father has for us and in His Mercy and Providence.

I don't know what the future holds. I have stopped trying to figure that out. I do know, that right now, I sit here in my slightly messy, "just the right size for us" house and I am confident that whatever it holds God will be in control and we will continue to Trust Him and hold His Mother's Hand as she leads us ever closer to Him.

Some Thoughts About Mary

"May is the month of our mothers."  I remember reading this when I was in First Grade, right before our First Friday Mass for the month of May began.  I had been practicing for weeks.  I was the student who was chosen to read the before-Mass meditation.  Every year it was the same, "May is the Month of our Mothers."   Every May this same sentence runs through my head.  So I figure its an appropriate time to write a bit about Mary.

I've had two rather profound (if I do say so myself) thoughts about the Blessed Mother that I shall share for your own discernment and prayer.

Mary, until lately has been difficult for me to relate to.  Until my rather dramatic experience when she truly became my Heavenly Mother I honestly didn't even much try to understand her.  It was losing Claire and then losing Lolek that really brought me into a much deeper relationship with her, and has given me a much greater understanding of her.  I was pondering Mary once again as I was praying last night.  I was recalling how whenever I am pregnant (which if you read this blog you know is actually quite often!) I start to feel distant from Mary.  I began to prayerfully explore this.  Then it was as if a veil was lifted and I was given such a profound understanding - one I had never had before!  I realized that pregnancy always made me feel distant from Mary because, according to St Bridget and to theologians, Mary did not experience your "typical" pregnancy.  Being free from original sin, she therefore did not experience the physical effects of it - such as the pain in childbearing etc.  In fact according to the Revelations of St. Bridget, Mary was basically in prayerful ecstasy when she delivered the Christ-Child.  This is NOT my experience of childbirth!  But Mary DID experience something far more profound.  In my prayer I saw Mary at the cross.  She was in pain. She was uniting her will to God's but she was in profound pain, "And a sword shall pierce your heart."  She was at the foot of the Cross looking up at Her Son.  She had just walked the Way of the Cross with Him and now she was surrendering Him to the Father.  "My child, I have labored and I have given birth to my Son who is now to enter Eternity." She said from the foot of the cross.  Of course!! Mary's life was one long "labor."

Often I have thought how labor and delivery so closely mirror the Paschal Mystery - the suffering, the dying to self, and the birth of a New Life.  Mary's whole life was the Paschal Mystery.  The Word became Flesh within her womb and she delivered the Savior.  She was told at the Temple that a "Sword would pierce her heart" and she carried with her for Jesus' whole life the knowledge that she wold suffer as she watched and loved her Son as He Redeemed the world.  Mary's whole life was about giving birth to our Salvation - not just at Christmas, but at the Cross.  What a profound insight! What a gift!  How incredibly small and insignificant my labors seem in comparison now.  What is a few hours compared to 33 years!?  I am in awe of our Lady.  I am humbled by this new understanding.

This new understanding and deeper regard for Our Lady came on the heels of yet another revelation about our Blessed Mother.

I have been earnestly walking down the prayerful road of Contemplative Prayer.  I have been reading St. John of the Cross and St. Theresa of Avila, and a book by Fr.  Dubay on Contemplative prayer.  It has been amazing and beautiful.  But I was stumped when it came to Mary.  Neither St. John nor St. Theresa really mentioned her.  Yet, Pope John Paul II, who is considered a great modern contemplative had a deep devotion to her, so I knew she had to fit in somewhere.  But how?

So I brought it my Spiritual Papa, Bl. John Paul II, and asked for his wisdom.  "Mary is the exemplary contemplative."  Umm..OK... but how?  "The indwelling of the Trinity was not only Spiritual for her, but physical."  Of course!  **Lightbulb**  That makes sense! Why didn't I think of that!?

Contemplative prayer is all about the union of the soul with the indwelling Trinity, a unity so profound it is as if there is a flow - a conduit open between the two.  It is a connection at once to Heaven, where the soul exists both within the person and yet in Heavenly reality, united with God.  Mary experienced this in the most physically profound way possible. Not only her soul, but her whole being was connected to the Godhead as Christ was growing within her.  Mary needed only to contemplate the baby she carried - as every mother does - and as she did she was at once united with Heaven in a deep and mysterious way.

This was a beautiful new understanding for me to ponder. It also gives me a different way in which to enter into contemplation.  How much practice my babies have given me already! Any mother can tell you that as soon as you see those pink or blue lines on the stick your very reality is changed forever.  You are constantly aware of a person inside you, that your body is not the same, and that you are not alone.  How similar this is to contemplative prayer - to being united with God even as you go about every day life.

 How thankful I am to Our Lady for allowing me to better understand her, and how grateful I am to Papa John Paul II for patiently teaching me about our Heavenly Mother.

I hope that maybe these small, humble insights will bring you closer to our Heavenly Family as well.

It's Been a Year, part II: The Gift of a PE and Pneumonia

So I ended the last post by saying that Padre Pio and Pope John Paul II were going to be playing a bigger role in my life "very soon."  I have always had a very strong and special devotion to St. John Paul II.  As a child I used to ask God for sufferings to offer for the Pope and experienced a closeness with him that is hard to describe.  After his death I mourned his loss and started a private devotion to him while praying for his Cause for Canonization.  I also asked him if he would accept me as his Spiritual Daughter.  His answer was "First you must make My Mother your Mother."  Of course he was talking about Mary.  I had always had a hard time with the Blessed Mother.  I prayed my Rosary, I honored her, I wanted to love her, and perhaps by an act of will I did, but it always felt flat.  In my heart I hadn't surrendered to Her Motherhood.  Well, Papa JPII got me thinking.  I desperately wanted him to accept me as a Spiritual Daughter so if he said to make Mary my Mother well, OK then!  I began begging her to help me do this.  At the same time I was given an incredibly strong sense that were anything "really bad" to happen to me, BL (now Saint). John Paul II would save me.  I didn't know what this meant, and quite frankly was a little rattled by this revelation that I was given while in prayer.  I thanked him for looking out for me and asked for his continued intercession.

This all began about 2 month before losing Baby Lolek.  Shortly before Lolek's death Padre Pio started "popping up."  He does this when he is letting us know we are going to need his help.  So I took the hint and began a novena to him asking for his protection.  When everything happened with Lolek I knew Padre Pio was interceding, and I clutched a prayer card of his throughout the ordeal.

The day after I was released from the hospital I was experiencing some very intense chest pain.  I had felt pretty woozy and lightheaded when they discharged me but was told by the nurse to expect to feel weak and to feel a heavy discomfort in my chest because of all the IV fluid.  So when I felt pain I recalled the words of the nurse and tried to ignore it.  The pain worsened throughout the day.  Perhaps it was my milk coming in?  After losing Claire my milk came in and it hurt.  Maybe it was anxiety?  I always get post-pardum anxiety.  Maybe its just my body recovering from trauma?  Maybe its all of the above?  As the day went on the pain only intensified.  It became hard to breathe.  I couldn't inhale.  I felt like I couldn't catch my breathe.  It must be anxiety.  This is the worst attack I've ever had.... I thought to myself.  Curled up on our big chair with a blanket I just struggled to breathe.  Walking made me dizzy and feel faint.  Wow.  I lost a lot of blood, probably normal....

I coped with these strange symptoms all day.  I mentioned them to my husband but tried to assure him that almost dying the day before was enough "badness" for a while - I was sure I'd be OK with some more rest.  Except I couldn't breathe!  I managed to make it through the day with as little exertion as possible.  OK, no exertion at all.  I tried to go to sleep that night.  My husband was restless and spent the night awake watching some movies in the living room.  I think I had given him quite a scare!  I lay in bed alone trying to get a good breath.  I once again thought of the nurse's warning, "It will be uncomfortable and feel heavy."   Boy, she wasn't kidding!  I tried to lay still.  After the 3rd Rosary I drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.  At about 4 am I shot bolt upright in bed - searing pain across my midsection from the bruises I had gotten after all the "mashing" the day before.  I was gasping for air and clutching my chest. Blinding pain was ripping into the left side of my chest and I had the distinct feeling that I had stopped breathing.  I gulped air, each gulp causing pain that made me dizzy.  Pope John Paul II's face flashed in my mind.  I tried to steady my breath.  I couldn't talk.  My heart was pounding so fast!  Slow breaths I commanded myself.  This must be another anxiety attack.  What else could it be?  After about 20 minutes of slow deliberate, painful breaths I put my head on my pillow and started another Rosary.  I was thinking of John Paul II.  I fell back into a fitful sleep only to wake up a short time later with the same awful sensation - gasping for air, clutching my chest in searing pain.  John Paul II's face again in my mind.  I didn't know what was happening but I DID Know that the "something really bad" had probably just happened.  I sat still, heart facing, trying to breathe through the pain in my chest.  I couldn't talk, couldn't move.  What was going on!?  I calmed down and tried to chalk it up to anxiety again, but I was a little scared.  And there was NO WAY I was going back to sleep! I sat very still in my bed, waiting for the sun to rise.  I may have dozed, in and out.  My husband  went to sleep as the sun was rising.  I told him what happened.  He looked concerned.  I told him I'd see how I felt and then call the doctor if necessary.  He said to wake him if I needed to.  I managed to get breakfast for my kids.  I walked slowly - every movement made me dizzy and made breathing more difficult.

Once noon hit I couldn't take it anymore.  I called the number on my discharge papers from two days before and left a message for the doctor.  Then I curled up on the chair with a blanket and tried to breathe.  My kids were a great distraction.  My husband woke up around 2:30 and at 3pm I got a call back from the doctor.  "If you are experiencing shortness of breath or chest pain you need to go to the ER, now."  I told her what the discharging nurse had said to me.  She wasn't impressed.  "You need to go to the ER.  What that nurse told you doesn't apply anymore."  I didn't really know what that meant but I told Dear Hubby we had to go to the hospital.  Our friend came over to keep an eye on the kids and we were off.

I will spare you the details of the Er trip.  The highlights included a dubious doctor who thought maybe my hemoglobin was low, and then a full oxygen mask, a heart rate dangerously high, blood pressure issues, X-Rays, a CT Scan (which I HATED!), an ultrasound of everything below my belly button, including my legs and feet, and eventually the dubious doctor poking his head into my room saying, "You're a MESS!"  It turned out I had a Pulmonary Embolism AND pneumonia.  PE in the right lung, pneumonia in the left. Our priest came and gave me the anointing of the sick.  I was instructed to NOT move at all.  Apparently my heart rate was so erratic that movement of any kind made it spike dangerously high  I was started on heparin, a blood thinner, and given something for the pneumonia, which they said was "hospital induced."  I had an OB come and consult because the doctors were afraid the blood thinners would make me hemorrhage again.   I was so scared!!  After getting started on everything I was admitted and taken to the cardiac ICU.  It had been 2 days since I had been in the ICU in the ER after losing Lolek.  I couldn't believe it.  What in the world was happening to me?!

The doctors were not very forthcoming with information.  I had a PE which I knew could kill you, and I was in danger of hemorrhaging, which could kill you.  The pneumonia seemed parochial at that point, and I refused to dwell on the fact that my grandfather had died from hospital induced pneumonia.  My husband had to go home to take care of the kids and I dictated a list to him of items to bring back in the morning.  I assured him I'd be fine and knew the kids needed him.  So I put on my brave face and joked through the oxygen mask, "Well I get breakfast in bed tomorrow!"  ("If I live that long" I added to myself, fear creeping into my thoughts.)  Hubby said good bye and I sat in the bed as a cascade of nurses came in.  Apparently in a cardiac ICU you get lots of attention.  I tried to adjust myself and my monitor started beeping.  A nervous looking nurse ran over.  "Honey, you CAN NOT move.  Your heart rate is way too high."  All I had done was try to adjust my position! Great. So if the PE doesn't kill me, and the anticipated hemorrhage doesn't kill me, and the pneumonia doesn't kill me, I will end up sending myself into cardiac arrest by accident and THAT will kill me.  All of a sudden I felt very vulnerable, very out of control, helpless and terrified.  I apologized.  She looked at me, "Your heart has had a work-out what with the heart attack and all."
Heart attack?  What heart attack?  I looked at her puzzled. She looked back.  The PE is in the right side.  It had to go through your heart to get there.  You're lucky you are alive."  I thought back to the night before- sitting up in bed clutching my chest gasping for air.  "OH! THAT'S what that was!"  I was stunned.  I was 29 years old and had already had my first heart attack.  I didn't know whether to be proud or mortified.  Instantly I thought of Pope John Paul II and in that moment I understood.  He had saved my life.  I had absolutely no doubt.  That thing was stopping up my heart and through his intercession it didn't kill me.  I silently thanked him.  So grateful.

I asked the nurse for my purse and slowly and carefully (so as not to speed up my poor heart)  took out my worn prayer book.  Pieta Prayer Book, in case you were wondering - my favorite.  I also took out my rosaries, Padre Pio and JPII prayer cards, and my Holy Water. I clutched them.  The nurses explained that my bed had to remain at a certain angle and I couldn't adjust it.  They messed around with my IV lines, gave me a catheter (ick), increased my oxygen, and drew some blood.  Then they instructed me to yell or press my call button if I thought I was bleeding to death, told me not to move again and left.  I was alone.

Now, I won't go into detail about the next 7 days in the hospital.  They had to draw blood every few hours, so by day 3 my arms were full of bruises and my veins didn't want to cooperate.  My blood thinners took a while to get in the "zone" where its safe (too little thinning and the clot can break free and blood can't move past it, too much thinning and well.... its bad).  The first 4 days I wasn't allowed to move more than my arms, and even then I had to be careful.  I will never forget laying there at that awful, uncomfortable 30 degree angle and wondering if I was going to die.  Would it hurt?  Would anyone be there with me?  Was I ready?  Why wasn't I excited at the prospect of Heaven?  What about my kids?  That's where I would get stuck.  My kids.  I was Mommy.  I had to take care of them.  Sure I thought about dying and getting to meet my three in Heaven, but my ones on earth needed me! I finally understood why so many prayers ask for the "Grace of a happy death."  I pray them very sincerely now.

Those first few terrifying days I look back on now with great thanks.  God was working on me.  I was, for the first time in my life, completely helpless.  I couldn't fight my way out of it.  I couldn't "suck it up, offer it up, and deal."  I couldn't even breathe without the oxygen mask! I realize now that those days are when I learned about contemplative prayer.  It was as if God taught me the amazing way to pray under fire.  It wasn't until months later that I realized that was what I was doing, how I was praying was contemplative.  I was so excited!  What a Grace I had been given!  I also learned that I needed to surrender.  I was afraid to.  I knew I was afraid to.  I was offering it up for my family and for my husband.  I was not complaining.  I was thanking God for the pain, for the fear, for the uncertainty, and yet I couldn't completely surrender.  I prayed the Stations of the Cross over and over again.  I found such comfort in them.  I knew I had to mourn my baby, Lolek, but I also knew that I couldn't yet.  It was as if my mind said "one crisis at a time, and this one is more immediate."  Besides my husband was making arrangements with the funeral home and the Church, I could be at peace knowing he would get the burial a child of God deserved.

One thing that was astounding to me were the insane conversations I would have with doctors.  They would come in every day to check on me.  I saw about 13 different doctors over the course of the first 7 days I was there.  THEY ALL told me I needed to decide what birth control to use.  A conversation would go like this:
Doctor: Hello Laura, how are you feeling
Me: Hello.  I still can't breathe and I have a lot of chest pain
Doctor:  Well that will take a  lot of time.  Your INR (how thin the blood is) is still off so we have to adjust your dose again.
Me: OK
Doctor: Now, lets talk about Birth Control for a moment.
Me: No, that's OK.
Doctor: Dr. So and So tells me you refused birth control yesterday.
Me:  Yes I did! *smile*
Doctor: That is not wise.  You see, blood thinners can cause birth defects and pregnancy can cause blood clots.
Me: So can Birth Control
Doctor:  Well, that's not exactly true
Me: Yes it is. It says so on the hormonal BC inserts.  Why in the world would you want me on BC if it causes them?  I ALREADY HAVE ONE!
Doctor: Well, it would be irresponsible of you to take a risk of getting pregnant
Me:  BC isn't fool proof. Besides my husband and I use a natural method and we use SELF control instead.
Doctor:  That's not really a smart idea.
Me:  Excuse me?  I am a Roman Catholic.  My faith teaches me that Birth Control is not only harmful to me, but its harmful to my marriage, to society, and to my soul.  AND I BELIEVE IT.  I practice my Faith.  I am very upset that every day I get a birth control lecture even after asking the nurses to notate on my chart that it is not to be discussed with me.  There is nothing you can say that will ever change my mind.
Doctor:  Well its your decision but it is not a smart one. If you get pregnant you have to come off the blood thinners and go on a different medication and you will need a high risk OB/GYN.  Plus, how many children do you have now?
Me: Four on earth.
Doctor:  My goodness.  All with the same man?
ME: YES!
Doctor: Don't you think that's enough?
Me:  I think its not for me alone to decide, and its none of your business.
Doctor: Very well, we are done.

At that point a nurse will hurry in and tell me my blood pressure was too high and I would explain that it was the doctor's fault.

So these were my days.  Plenty to offer up, and yet, I was still holding something back.

When I was released 7 days later I got home late afternoon. My mom was there with my sister.  My kids were so happy.  I was exhausted.  I was very weak, and still couldn't breathe.  I felt like I had been run over by a bus.  I got set up on the overstuffed chair and cuddled my kids.  I felt terrible.  The next day I still felt awful but managed a shower.  The kids had an early bedtime.  I decided to sleep on the chair because it was comfortable for my breathing.  As I tried to doze off an all too familiar sensation made me hurry to the bathroom.  I was hemorrhaging again.  A lot.  In half an hour I was back in an ambulance heading to the hospital.  It had been less than 12 hours since I was discharged.

The blood thinners were reversed to stop the bleeding.  This put me at risk for another clot and made my pain level higher and difficulty breathing worse.  An ultrasound revealed what they thought "might" be a retained bit of tissue.  I was told to not eat or drink in case I needed a D and C to remove it. I was admitted again but since the cardiac unit was full I was put on a Bariatric floor.

The poor nurses there didn't know what to do with me.  All the equipment was too big for me - it was designed for obese people getting bariatric surgery.  After all my problems I weighed about 118 pounds - hardly obese.  Still those nurses were wonderful. They knew I was hungry and wasn't allowed to eat, and they didn't have monitors for my vitals so they came in to check as often as they could.  Some dear friends came to pray over me.  They brought relics of several saints and along with a few other friends, including my amazing "super-doula" best friend we prayed.  Through the course of the prayer I began to feel very strange.  I had been given a drug that was supposed to help expel the retained tissue, but came with the risk of further hemorrhage.  The doctor had told me we still couldn't rule out a D and C and would I consent to placing an IUD while getting the procedure.  I practically shouted her out of the room.  "NO!  STOP TALKING TO ME ABOUT BIRTH CONTROL!"  She was very upset with me and told me she hoped I didn't hemorrhage but if I did, at least I could get another transfusion, and she left.

As I began to feel strange, I thought to myself, here it comes.  I'm going to bleed to death right here.  There are no monitors so the nurses won't see that my BP is dropping and my pulse is racing.  I began to feel faint.  I hadn't eaten in 36 hours, and I'm sure that didn't help.  I couldn't see straight, my heart was pounding.  I started to get tunnel vision.  "Surrender, Laura."  I heard a whisper in my heart.  "Make my mother your mother."  Papa JPII?  My friends were praying.  I felt like I was dying.  "Mama!!!  Mama!!!  I surrender!  Help me Mama!  I give up!  God can have me if He wants.  I surrender.  Please, be my Mother.  Help me to love you as my mother, help me surrender completely to God.  If its His Will that I die now, then I accept it.  Please hold my hand Mama, I give everything to God.  Everything. My life, my health, my kids, my husband, everything."    I was screaming in my mind.  I felt as though I was saying it out loud.  And in that moment, Mary became my Heavenly Mother.  I had broken through.

My pulse quickened, the dizziness intensified, and I felt as though I couldn't breathe.  I could tell I was about to hemorrhage.  "Call a nurse," I whispered. My friends looked worried. They pressed the call button and went into the hallway.  Two nurses came running.  "I'm not OK."  I told them.  "I feel like I do before I hemorrhage, and I want to pass out."  They started checking vitals.  The looked worried.  Very worried.  They called another nurse.  One left to make a call.  The other two ushered out my friends.  They shut the door and brought over a portable commode.  Lets prop you up on this and see what happens.  I agreed.  I prepared myself for the inevitable gush of blood and what I knew would be me passing out afterwards.  "You have to hold me up," I said.  The nursed could see I was so dizzy I couldn't even sit up without help.  "We aren't leaving your side," they said.  And so I glanced upward, asked Mary to give me courage, and resigned myself to the very real sense that I was going to die that night.

Then a strange thing happened.  I sat propped up waiting for the worst.  Instead of a rush of blood the only thing that my body expelled was a piece of tissue.  It looked to be the size of the retained tissue that the ultrasound had revealed. I was flabbergasted. So were the nurses.  You see, it just doesn't work like that.  You don't just expel a bit of tissue and NOTHING else.  Not post pardum, not when you have been hemorrhaging.  The dizziness began to wane.  Tunnel vision went away.   The nurses put me back in bed.

"See, I am your Mother."  I heard her whisper in my heart.  With complete clarity I understood. Mary had just kept me alive.  She had saved my life.  It was my final act of surrender that made it possible.  I was filled with gratitude.  Immense gratitude.  I can't write this without crying.  That night, Mary became my mother, and I learned that surrender - ultimate surrender - is a freedom.  Not something to be feared.

Shortly after this experience the nurses came in to tell me I was being transferred to the Cardiac Unit "where I belonged."  Soon I was back on the cardiac floor in the ICU for a few days, and then to the regular cardiac floor before being sent home.  All told I had been in the hospital for 16 days.

I had an ultrasound the day after the night when Mary saved my life to check on the "retained tissue" and wouldn't you know, they couldn't find it.  The whole time I had the distinct feeling of Mary's presence.  It was as if she was letting me know that just as I wouldn't leave one of my children's sides were they in the hospital, neither was she leaving mine.  I had the most profound peace.  I was no longer scared.  I didn't really know what would happen to me yet but I was not scared.  I was at peace.  I was still in a lot of pain and I still couldn't breathe, but I had peace.  I remember realizing that I had done as John Paul II said.  I made Mary my Mother!  And as I thought these things, in my heart I knew I had a new Spiritual Father as well.  I was overjoyed!  There I was with my oxygen cannula on, the anti-clot balloons on my legs, heart monitors all over, two IVs, and bruises up and down my arms, grinning like a fool.  Our God is an amazing God.

In my next post I would like to introduce you to some very amazing, very special, extremely dear friends without whom I couldn't have survived the hospital tedium, or recovered once home.  They have become my Virginia Family and I thank God for them every day.  So, next time you will meet "Lolek's Friends."